Never Again
by A.R.Manolakas
Summary: When Beck's friend's turn on him, how will he react? Tw: Depression, Tw: Self Harm, Tw: Suicide.
1. Chapter 1

Beck stumbled as he stepped on a rather large rock, almost falling face first into the snow,. He couldn't stop, if he stopped he would never get back up. He was close, he could see the ravine ahead of him.

The cold was seeping into him, stalling his processors, numbing his ears, hands, and feet. He could see his breath in front of him. His legs creaking as he slugged through the bitter snow, it's coldness freezing his ankles.

The amount of snow lessened as he neared the edge of the rocky gorge, the small rocks and pebbles pressing themselves into the bottom of his feet.

He always felt a connection with gorge, it always seemed to embody what he was feeling, whether it be joy, sorrow, exhilaration, grief, anger, frustration. This cycle was no exception desolate, empty, motionless, soundless, cold.

The twilight of the grids light lit up the outlands, though it wasn't bright, it was still brighter than the dimmer than healthy blue and white circuits on the young program standing on edge of the gorge. The program stared down into the dark abyss for a long while before slowly lowering himself down so that his legs dangled off the edge.

The program's messy, dark brown hair was lined with blue code and fell along the man's gaunt, ashen features. The man's neck was swollen, and covered in purple bruises in the shape of someone's hands. His dull brown eyes were hopeless, distraught. One swollen over, and both covered in different hues of black and bluish purple. His nose bent at an angle that it was never supposed to be and covered in white energy. His face was absent of any sign of his signature, not quite arrogant, smile. Rather there was a tight, slight frown, almost a grimace.

The man reached up and gently brushed his fingertips against a bleeding wound on his left cheek with a confused look in his eyes, as if pondering how it got there. Pulling his hand away he stared at the whitish blue energy that coated his fingers with a distant look. He bowed his head, with sunken shoulders, as if the entire grid was against him, and in a way, it was. Even the people he used to rely on, he mused.

Mara, Zed and some of the other mechanics at Abel's garage, his friends, hated him. It wasn't so bad at first, but as the cycles progressed, the fights got worse and worse. Sometimes if he was lucky there wouldn't be any fights at all; it didn't happen much, only when Abel was around. But Abel couldn't be around all the time, just like he wasn't this time. Today's was the worst yet, and it would be the last.

His white armour clashed with the darkness of the room as he stalked up to the window which hid a system that revealed itself at the snap of his fingers. The program had perfectly combed back brown hair, with an accompanying furrowed brow, and he bared one-of-a-kind steel blue eyes that absorbed the information provided by the system.

If anyone saw Tron now, they would think he was furious. Which he was not; he was however annoyed, and a little worried, though if anyone confronted him on the latter Tron would profusely deny it. He had not seen his apprentice at all this or last cycle, which was very irregular for him. He used to be late almost every time, but after Dyson, Beck was always on time and followed his orders to the letter; he even stopped with the sarcastic comments. Which Tron somewhat missed, but the obedience was nice even if it was a little strange; he'd been meaning to speak to Beck about it. So for the mechanic program to completely skip two training sessions…

Something had to be wrong.

Tron had the feeling something had been bothering Beck the last couple cycles; the younger program had been acting very strange, even more so than usual.

It was a mutual understanding between himself and Beck that they would never actually say the word 'goodbye' unless they weren't going to make it out of something alive. Beck had only said it once before and the only reason he survived was because Tron was able to grab him before Tesler's guards derezzed him. That was too close for Tron's liking. They both understood this; when they left it would always be something like "see you later". Even with this knowledge Beck had still departed with goodbye, leaving Tron on edge.

He checked the occupation's data banks to see if they had the younger program in custody or if he was currently fighting their soldiers. When that drew up blank he checked the cameras placed at Abel's garage, they also came up with nothing. Where else would he be? Tron thought, maybe the outlands, he spends a lot of time at the gorge.

Deciding to follow up that thought he scanned the outlands for any signs of a Beck.

He had immediate success, Program: Beck, Directive: Mechanic; System monitor, Location Identified: Outlands, Gorge/Rift. Danger level: High. Identified threat: N/A.

The results left Tron more confused than before, how could the danger level be high, but have no identified threat?

Grabbing his baton he sped towards Beck's location, mulling over the past couple cycles.  
 ___

 **Earlier that cycle**

"BECK!" He not so subtly flinched as Mara yelled for him, flanked by Zed, Hopper and Bartik. Each wearing similar expressions of anger and disgust. He'd gotten used to these daily occurrences; some days weren't as bad as others; but judging from Mara's tone, today's was going to be dreadful. It'd been happening for a while now, not too long after Bodhi died. By now he'd determined that no one would defend him; it had gotten physical the last couple hilocyces, but at least it hadn't gotten to the point where he could no longer create a glamour to hide his injuries. Beck was hoping to get out of a beating this time as he was still recuperating from the last one and not to mention the injury he got from the last mission the renegade went on. As he unwound himself from the bike he was working on, Hopper thought it would be funny to send an electrical jolt through the bike, undoing any work he'd done previously and shocking him as well.

"Was that really necessary?" he spat in between pants, looking like it was going to get physical as well today. Just. His. Luck. He could fight back, but he would never raise a hand against his friends no matter what they did to him. They didn't deserve that. Hopper and Bartik, however, were not his friends. Never had been, never would be.

Before, he would have fought back or said something against the verbal abuse, and he had the first couple times. But after a while he started to believe them. He was lazy, stupid, arrogant, worthless. He deserved this, he knew it and they knew it too.

"Look who it is, our favorite play toy," Bartik sang. "Ohh Becky poo."

Work used to be a safe haven, a home; now it was just a place he feared. When he didn't turn around to face them, Hopper shoved him to the ground.

"Hey, we're talking to you, you worthless program!"

"Even someone like you knows you look at people when they speak to you." Of course Bartik had to add in his two cents.

"Your so stupid, Beck. How were we ever friends with you?" His old friend sneered.

"You won't believe what we've realized today, Beck." Mara's taunting voice rang in his ears.

"Bodhi's death was your fault! You should have held him back! He was your best friend and you let him die! So you deserved to be punished…."

He didn't flinch when the first hit came. Beck learned by now that any reaction at all would only make it worse, but it also may have been from shock. If what they said was true. That it was his fault that his best friend was dead. Could he even call Bodhi his friend, let alone best, if he let him die? If he let him run to his death. So he didn't try to stop them. He deserved this. He deserved it for not being the friend that he should have been. The program he should have been. The apprentice he should have been.

The hits were never ending. They took turns, two of them would hold him down and the other would beat him. A punch to the face. A kick to his chest. The twisting of a leg, adding more and more weight to the point that it almost snapped. "ARGH!" Beck's scrunched eyes flew open; his back arched as he tried to muffle his scream from the red hot pulsing pain flaming from his wrist.

He looked into the eyes of his assailant. It was Zed. His longtime friend had done this to him. Not Hopper or Bartik. His old friend met his gaze; he thought he saw regret flash in them, but it was gone the next moment.

It was blurry after that. Hands grabbed his neck and slammed his head down onto the metal below leaving small dents where his head hit. Darkness was clouding his vision, he didn't know why. What was happening? He couldn't breathe. He frantically clawed at the hands on his neck, but to no avail. He couldn't last for long like this, but he could do nothing. His attempts slowly died down, his hands hanging from the man's relentless grip on Beck's neck.

He blacked out at some point, but that didn't make a difference. He woke with someone slapping his cheek hard. He wanted to go back to the blackness. It was a sanctuary away from the pain. Beck tried to tuck his head into his shoulder, but stopped when he felt something slam down on his chest. Hard. His breathing contracted as he fell into a coughing fit. He started coughing up energy, but was shoved back down before he could spit it out. His mouth was filled up the revolting liquid, but was emptying on the side of his cheek.

They let up at some point. They never did stay behind long after the deed was done. They probably couldn't stomach looking at him.

Beck tried to get an estimate of how bad of shape he was in by using his hand to prop himself up. "Gli-!" He'd attempted to curse when he saw the shape of his right wrist, but it only came out as a wheeze and a series of coughs. It was frayed at the edges and bent at a weird angle; blue pixels flowed out of it as he took in the state of the rest of his body.

He was a mess; there were gashes all over his body. His sides were littered with blue and white energy draining from his wounds.

Beck tried to take deep breath to calm himself, but it only did the opposite. His throat felt like it was on fire; the wheezing didn't help matters either. It would take cycles to heal his throat if he didn't get some energy quick. Having his throat like this could not happen. Tron would find out.

He had been able to hide it from his mentor so far. Tron didn't need to know he couldn't handle a few mechanics, he would think him weak. He would think he didn't deserve to be his successor, and Tron was right. He knew he was being selfish, but he just wanted to hold on to the one thing that granted him respite. And besides, he'd been able to hide it from him this long. What else was new?  
 ___

Beck seized his right wrist with his left hand and squeezed. Letting out a grunt of pain, he squeezed harder. Effectively drawing himself out of the memory.

He lowered his head into his hands, his hands gripping the sides of his head. Trying to fight off the demons within. He couldn't do it anymore. He couldn't take the abuse from his friends anymore, even though he knew he deserved it. "COWARD!" his mind cried. He felt tears stream down his face. He failed them all. He failed the programs of Argon. He failed his friends. He failed Bodhi.

Beck blindly groped for his baton, gripping it with a shaking hand he threw it as hard as he could at the other side of the gorge. He let out an agonizing scream as he threw the baton. "It's all my fault!"

As the baton hit the opposing side he had a moment of clarity. A way to fix everything he did.

If he died he could fix it all. His death would harm no one.

Everyone would be better off without him; Abel could get a better mechanic to take his place, one that showed up on time for his shifts; Mara, Zed and the other mechanics wouldn't have to worry about picking up his slack and Tron…

Tron could find a better renegade, one that wasn't a failure. One who could be the next Tron.

He was going to make up for his failures, once and for all. It was the least he could do after all he'd done. He could make everyone happy.

With his mind clear, he disengaged his disk from the dock and took off Tron's half. His replacement would need it.

He was going to make it quick; all Beck had to do was push and it would be over. He felt oddly peaceful at the thought of being gone.

Beck closed his eyes as he braced his arms on the edge of the gorge and pushed.


	2. Chapter 2

_"BECK!"_ Tron screamed, his core froze in icy fear as he ran towards Beck, diving for his arm that disappeared over the edge. His fingers brushed against his shoulder before latching on to the younger programs wrist. The stop in force almost pulled Tron over the edge as well. Brown eyes snapped open, staring at him with a shocked expression.

"Give me your other hand!" He commanded in barely masked fear.

"Tron? What are you doing? Let go." Beck grunted as he tried to pull away.

Clutching Beck's arm tighter, he pleaded, "This isn't a time for games Beck! Just give me your hand."

"Please." Desperation bled into Beck's voice, "Just let go."

Tron could feel his control on his emotions slipping.

"Never." Tron said, his voice shaking, "Please, give me your hand. We can talk about this, you don't have to do this."

It was as if a switch flicked and turned on Beck's emotions, just not the ones needed.

"We can't talk about it, no one understands! No one cares!" He exploded.

"I do," Tron protested, voice cracking, "I swear to my user, I care."

Beck furrowed his eyes and cracked a thoughtful half smile, which frightened Tron more than he wanted to admit.

"It's fitting isn't it?"

The abrupt topic change had Tron narrowing his eyes in confusion and wary curiosity, "What is?"

"This is where we had our first lesson. I didn't make the jump that time and you saved me. Remember?"

 _Of course he remembered._ He remembered Beck's arrogant tone as they raced through the outlands. He remembered the smile he could hear in Beck's voice as he teased Tron. He could recall the annoyance when Beck missed the jump. The worry when the ground beneath Beck fell away. He could still feel the relief when he grabbed Beck's arm. He still recalled the faint amusement at Beck's sarcastic remarks. He still felt the sympathy for the young program who lacked self-confidence. He could remember the disappointment when Beck walked away.

Gripping Beck's arm tighter, he answered with determination,"I saved you then, and I'll save you now."

Beck gave a humorless snort, "And what if I don't want to be saved?"

Tron stared into the Brown eyes below him with a hard, determined gaze. "I'm not asking."

Beck broke eye contact and tried to pry Tron's hand off his wrist, leaving his hand vulnerable to Tron. Beck realized his mistake a second too late, Tron had already seized his wrist and yanked him upwards.

Beck gave a pain filled yell as soon as he landed on the ground.

Tron was over Beck in nanos, his arms were pinned over his head and there was a knee on his chest, with little to no pressure.

 _"What were you thinking?!"_ Tron yelled, in fear and worry. He could feel his processors overheating.

Tron stared at Beck's face, only now noticing the cut and bruises on his cheek. He brought one hand up to rub against the cut. "What happened?" He murmured softly.

Beck turned the hurt side of his face away towards the ground, looking at a spot beside Tron.

Tron looked up to where a recognizers light was coming their way. "Come on, we have to get out of here. We are continuing this when we are back at the hideout."

Beck reached to open his own light cycle before a hand on his elbow stopped him.

Tron shook his head, "You're riding with me."

Tron opened his light cycle and climbed on, shooting an expectant look in Beck's direction.

Beck bowed his head and clambered on, avoiding Tron's gaze.

"Ready?" Tron asked before speeding off to the hideout after receiving a nod.

Neither program said anything, both consumed by their thoughts.

A head fell on Tron's shoulder and nuzzled into his neck, Tron shivered from the contact, it was much too cold to be healthy.

He glanced at Beck's face, it was much too pale and had more worry lines than what a young program should have. The bruises on his neck and face had started to turn black, its color a massive contrast to the soft pallor of his skin.

Tron felt something rise in his chest, something rarely felt.

Fear. It was not fear for himself, the revolution or even the grid.

He was terrified for his apprentice. A program so brave and kind that he had a special place in Tron's core. Beck was more than a successor, a mechanic or even Argons renegade.

He became something Tron thought he would never understand. Something Flynn told him all those cycles ago.

 _A son._

 _Tron's own son._

=-=–=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=–=-=-=-===-=-==-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-

 _"Well you see, Tron, my son Sam, he's about 6 now, man, he–" Flynn was interrupted by Tron._

 _"Whats a son?"_

 _"Yeah, um how to explain this. Oh! I know, okay take you and Yori for instance; imagine if you two had a program with a mixture of both of you guys' code. He would look like you two and act somewhat like you as well. Now you and Yori would both protect him even at the expense of the grid. You would do anything for him."_

 _"But I would never sacrifice the grid for the sake of one program."_

 _"Let me finish. Anyways if someone hurt them, you -actually would probably derez the program that hurt him.- I'm getting off track, anyhow their happiness and safety is the most important thing to you."_

 _"I don't get it."_

 _His chuckles echoed in the large room, making Tron look at him as if he were insane._

Arriving at the hideout Tron attempted to wake the younger program. "Beck, get up, we're here."

Receiving no response, Tron gently carried him into med room, laying him softly on the slab, all the while Beck was groaning.

Tron's eyes roamed over his apprentice's body, appalled at the damage that he failed to notice in his panic. The gashes were everywhere, and they were spreading.

 _No._

"Come on Beck, don't do this!"

Looping Beck's arm over his shoulder Tron, stumbling, heaved Beck to the healing chamber, the white liquid brushing against his fingers as he sprinted to the controls.

Tron's fingers flew across the keyboard tirelessly, entering command after command, the chamber was built for him, not another program, it would be a miracle if it worked on Beck.

"Listen to me, don't you dare die, do you hear me? Don't die."

The computer finally accepted his commands, he could hear the chamber starting up.

Slouching in relief Tron released a sigh,"Thank Alan-one."

Tron stood completely still; the only movement coming from him was the rising of his chest. His thoughts however were racing, cataloging every…single…scar. Every…single… injury. The bags under Beck's eyes, the ashen bruised face. Scanning the frayed wrist. Not even unconscious did Beck look peaceful.

Slightly bowing his head, Tron rested a hand on the chamber before looking Beck in the eyes. "For glitch's sakes Beck, what happened?"

The faint voice of the grid rang through the air, _"Energy depleted, canceling all operations."_ Frowning Tron made a mental note to send for some more from Abel before sliding his hand through the liquid barrier.

Tron hoisted Beck across his shoulders, a groan passing the injured programs lips. Straightening his back, Tron carried Beck to the guest room as his apprentice hadn't claimed one yet.

The room was pure white with deep turquoise and green circuits; on the right were empty shelves, excluding the baton resting on the lowest; the left had a uniformed pale gray bed and black desk, with a container of energy lying forgotten.

Shifting Beck's weight to his left shoulder, Tron pulled back the soft gray blanket before laying Beck beneath it.

The healing chamber did not completely heal Beck, but he was at least stable. Glancing down at the younger program, he saw his circuits flicker, mentally cursing himself for forgetting to give him energy, Tron strode over to the desk and grabbed the forgotten canister, before returning to Beck's side.

In an attempt to wake the young mechanic Tron gently tapped his cheek, but to no avail; the program remained sound asleep. Frowning slightly, Tron maneuvered the two of them so that Beck was sitting up, resting against Tron. Looping his arm around Beck, Tron managed to part Beck's lips with the vial and help him drink about ¾ of it before he started coughing on the blue liquid. "Easy, not so fast," Tron muttered, even though he knew Beck could not hear him.

Laying Beck down, Tron, consumed by his thoughts, eased into the soft, dark gray chair beside Beck.

 _What happened to Beck? Some of those scars are hilocycles old, and he didn't even notice them. Who would do that to him? Why would they do that to him? Why did he not notice? Why did Beck hide them? Why would he not tell him? What in Flynn's name was Beck thinking! He could have helped him! Why would Beck out of all programs try to–NO! He's just misunderstanding the situation. Beck could never attempt–that–_ he weakly tried to convince himself.

"Who am I kidding?" the grid's protector wondered aloud. The wall of denial was crumbling from the ground up, letting in the one thought he had tried his best to ignore.

 _Beck had attempted to derez himself._

Tron took in a shuddering breath, trying to calm himself, and the tears stinging his eyes. Releasing the breath his facade crumpled. He felt the tears slide down his cheeks as his head fell into his hands weeping, all the while muttering "what if's" and promises. The program he considered to be his son had almost derezzed himself. He would have never seen that cocky smile, those warm and caring brown eyes, never hear his sarcastic remarks again. He would have never seen his son again. What Beck tried to do burned him to his core.

Whoever dared hurt someone Tron considered family was screwed, but when that family member was his son there was going to be _hell to pay._

Tron wiped his tears and squeezed Beck's, promising to himself that nothing like this would _ever_ happen again.

Beck's head was pounding, and the white that bombarded his vision didn't help matters. Feeling something warm on his hand he glanced to his right to find Tron slouched over in his chair staring off into space. Groaning, Beck allowed his head to fall with a flop, which he thoroughly regretted moments later, as blackness clouded his vision luring him to embrace it once more. Shrugging it off, Beck once again attempted to sit up, fighting a wave of nausea he finally propped himself against the wall.

"Beck! Easy, you're still injured," his mentor warned.

Flinching at the stern tone, Beck tensed, propping himself up at a 90 degree angle, shying away from his mentor.

"Sorry," he muttered, glancing around the unfamiliar room, "Where are we?"

"It's your room. You never picked one out, so I picked for you. Never mind that, how are you feeling?"

"Hm? I'm fine, just a little sore, I'll be up before the end of the cycle," Beck lied, waving off Tron's concern.

"Beck."

"What!" The mechanic defended, "Okay, maybe I'm a little tired, but I'm fine!"

"Beck, do not lie to me, how are you feeling?"

Fidgeting with the blanket, Beck looked down, avoiding Tron's piercing gaze. In a more subdued manner the younger program answered truthfully, "It hurts, everything hurts."

He heard his mentor sigh, "Here, drink some of this." Glancing at the vial of white energy Beck shifted his weight to his right wrist as he reached for the drink.

"Argh!" White hot pain shot up through his arm, blinding him, he lost the little control he had over his body, falling back against the wall he groaned. Darkness was blurring his vision. In an attempt to clear it Beck rubbed his eyes, a little rougher than necessary.

"Easy," Tron admonished, "Let me help."

Confused, Beck stared at Tron in disbelief. Why wasn't Tron telling him that he was weak or selfish, and why was Tron helping him?

Not wanting to give Tron any more ammunition than he already had, Beck protested, "It's alright, I got it."

"No, you don't." With an accompanied stern stare, Tron used an arm to support Beck's weight before using his other to force-feed the mechanic.

The energy tasted bland, though he rarely tasted anything these cycles. Almost gagging on it, Beck downed the revolting drink. His mentor eased him back to a sitting position before retreating back to his chair.

After a nanocycle of silence, Beck looked up and found Tron leaning forward with his hands clenched together, shaking his head at the ground. Noticing Beck's stare, Tron, with pain evident in his voice, asked the one question he still could not answer, _"Why?"_

Beck opened his mouth to respond, but closed it; looking away from Tron, he tried again.

The mechanic tucked his chin to his chest, fighting the tears that prickled his eyes, "I-I-" –his voice broke off as his shoulders shook– "I just couldn't take it anymore, t-t-he things they said, the things they did. I just can't take it anymore."

"Who?" Tron asked.

Avoiding his mentor's question, he curled his knees inward, resting his head against them, feeling the tears break through.

The bed dipped as a warm hand grasped his neck, gently raising his head so he could see eye to eye with Tron.

"I don't know what they said or did to you, but they were wrong. What ever they said was a lie, whatever they did was not your fault."

"Yes it is! All of it!" Beck broke off to a whisper, though the tears grew stronger and stronger, "That was the hardest part… Everything they said was true, everything they did I deserved. You should just accept it as I have, the simple truth, I'm not worth it. I deserve it all."

"Don't ever say that again!" Tron growled, "You are worth everything!" He spat bitterly, with a look of pure determination and anger. "No matter what anyone has told you, you are always worth it. Forget what they told you and focus on what I'm telling you."

Flinching at Tron's tone, Beck attempted to sink further in himself. "I'm sorry."

Softening his tone, Tron replied, "Don't be, it is not your fault, do you understand me?"

Angling his head away from Tron, jaw clenched, he nodded, though they both knew it was a lie.

"Why did you stop me? Everyone would have been better off without me, you could have found someone worthy of the name Tron, a—"

"I already have," Tron interrupted, "you are the only one worthy to carry my name, don't ever doubt that, I choose you for a reason, and you haven't proven me wrong. Also, who is everyone? I know I wouldn't have been better off, the programs of Argon wouldn't be better off, Abel certainly wouldn't have been." Tron willed him to believe, "You might not believe me, Beck, but we all need you."

Beck closed his eyes and rested his head on Tron's shoulder, the soft warmth and steady breathing slowly lulled him to fitful sleep.


End file.
